


Let's Have Drinks Sometime

by Ionah



Series: Insignificant Things [1]
Category: Grimm
Genre: Dark, Drugged Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionah/pseuds/Ionah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something isn't right...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Have Drinks Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> Not my usual fare, because I love romance and happy endings and all that good stuff, but this was here in my head today and I couldn't stop it from pouring out. Forgive me. I'm posting because kink is kink and sometimes it's difficult to find what you're looking for.

“Can you just—back off.” But the hand was already palming his cock through his pants, sliding up until fingers  
slipped beneath the edge of his waistband, rubbing against the soft, warm skin of his belly.

“I'm going to fuck you until you can't move,” he said, right against his cheek, and he sucked in his breath and tried to squeeze back a little farther, but the edge of the wide bed was already behind his knees. He stumbled, losing his balance, and one small shove was all it took to splay him out across the mattress.

The drug had already impaired his ability to struggle, leaving him with a delayed reaction and a vague disconnect from what was happening to him. He pushed at the hands tugging on his zipper, pulling at his pants, but his movements were ineffectual and his effort wasted. Hot breath shivered across his neck as a warm mouth kissed and sucked on his skin, from the corner of his jaw to the base of his throat. He swallowed hard, and felt the faint tremble coursing through him. He wasn't sure if the drug he'd ingested had been intended to do more than just make him receptive, but he couldn't seem to drum up the energy or the desire to fight as hands yanked the fabric of his pants down over his hips, thighs, knees, and then feet. He looked up at the ceiling, felt the cool air swirl around his naked legs, and tried to push himself up on his elbows. “You shouldn't do this,” he said. “I'll have to kill you later.”

“If it makes you feel better to think so, do.”

Then the hands were pushing his shirt up, bunching it under his arms, not even bothering to remove it. Fingers played over his nipples, and the tips became tight and pointed as an unexpected shaft of pleasure unfurled in his gut.

“What did you give me?” he asked, because he knew now that it had been meant for more than just making him pliable for a fuck. He was going to get pleasure from this, he could already feel it starting.

“Just a little something to make this more enjoyable for the both of us. I don't like a struggle. Plus, I want to hear you beg for my cock later, when the drug really kicks in.”

“I won't do that.”

“Oh yes you will. You'll be writhing about on the bed, trying to get some release, and you'll whimper and moan, and try to get me to fuck you harder, longer, faster, anything to make it better. Your tight hole is going to clench around me, and you're going to be absolutely insane with desire. Don't worry though. I took a little something myself, to make sure I can keep up and satisfy every urge you have. Now roll over.”

He didn't, but it didn't matter, because hands pushed at his relaxed, warm body until he was on his belly, and fingers played around his crack, thumbs pulling his cheeks apart and something cool dribbling down between them. He sucked in his breath at the first touch of a fingertip against his anus. No one had ever touched him there like this before, and then there were fingers inside him, twisting, pushing, and oh, damn, he was right, he wanted it, he wanted more and he felt himself shifting, trying to get his knees under him so he could push back against the fingers fucking him, not gentle, not rough, but somewhere in between.

“Uhg,” he mumbled into the quilt smashed against his face.

“Ask me for it,” he said. “Ask me to give you more.”

“Can't,” he gasped out. “Won't.”

“Next time, then,” he said, holding him tight and pushing what felt like the thickest cock in the world into his hole, sliding in relentlessly, not pausing to allow him any time to catch his breath when his throat closed up on him.

“No no no,” he said, but it was too late. Hips smacked hard against his ass, the cock buried all the way inside, and then he started pushing in and pulling out, rhythmically fucking him, rocking him into the bed and his cock swelled fast, and the heat became hotter, the pressure more unbearable, the thickness in his rectum beyond imagining, even though he'd never imagined this before.

Teeth nipped at his earlobe. “Bet yours is a virgin hole, isn't it?”

He struggled to think straight through the haze creeping over him and he managed to recover a bit of spite and said, “No. I've had plenty of men fuck me.”

Fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his head, pulled hard. “Don't lie to me, or I'll have a few friends join us, make use of your experience.” He kissed the back of his neck, shoved in deep once, then twice, and said, “Might do it anyway.”

“No.”

He felt a soft chuckle against his sweaty skin, and hips ground against his ass in a circle. A stab of pleasure washed over him in a rush, hard, fast, and it left him panting.

“Come on now, I know you're getting close. Ask for it.”

“I—just do it.”

“Tell me how good it feels when I do this.” And he thrust a few times short and sharp, his cock hard and full and rubbing right over that spot that made his arms tremble. He clenched his fingers in the quilt on either side of his head.

“Your hole is so tight,” he said, another puff of breath floating across the back of his neck where the collar of his shirt ended.

It was getting harder not to move, to push back, to rub his own cock against the bed covers below him, harder not to ask for it, cry for it, beg for it.

A hand slid under his chest and fingers tweaked hard at his nipple, pulling at it, and it was so hot. He was on fire.

“Please...” slipped out.

“Please what?” he said. “Please fuck your ass? Please shove my cock in deep, just like this?” He mirrored actions to words and shoved deep, drawing another gasp from him. “I want to fuck you harder, but you have to ask for it.”

And he couldn't hold out any longer. “Please,” he said, gruff and wanting, desperate. “Please, fuck me.”

“More,” he said.

“Please fuck me. Fuck me,” he demanded, but it was almost a sob. “I don't know what you want me to say. Fuck me hard. Harder. Please.”

It must have been enough, because he felt him curl over his back, his arms bulging where they held him up, and his thick cock pounded into his ass, taking him so hard the bed rocked on its stout legs.

He grunted with each thrust, but it wasn't enough, and it went on forever. The burn, the hurt, the pleasure swamped him, drew him down until there was nothing but the slap of flesh and glide of chest over back, slick with sweat. He might have whimpered; he might have begged; he lost track of time and he lost track of his tongue. “Please” came out again, and then again, and then he was repeating whatever he was asked to say.

Hours later, he wasn't sure how many, he felt the cock pull out of his ass, slowly, almost tenderly, and a hand grazed along his flank. “The beauty of this particular drug cocktail,” he said, “is that you won't remember any of this. Not this time, not next time, not last time.”

He wanted to be shocked by that revelation, but he could barely keep his eyes open.

He couldn't bring his head off the bed. He was spent, tired, exhausted. Hands rolled him onto his back and sometime between opening his eyes, closing them, and then reopening them, he felt a warm cloth wiping him down, scratching against his skin, and the quilt under him being removed. His clothes were straightened, and somehow he was manhandled until he was again wearing the jeans he'd had on earlier.

“It's time for me to go now. But we'll have drinks again sometime, Nick, I promise you, and we'll get to do this all over again. I can tell you enjoy playing the virgin.”

Nick felt himself drifting, his eyes closing on the sight of the captain letting himself out of the bedroom. There was no way he could make a note for himself. He couldn't even turn his head. When Juliette returned from her vet conference, she would find a quilt missing, but neither she nor he would understand where it had gone, just like they didn't understand where the last one had gone, and Captain Renard was right, Nick wouldn't remember a thing.


End file.
